Some Thoughts On The 69th Anniversary of D-Day

I just executed a textbook hit-and-run, leaving just enough time to produce this literary upheaval. I frantically shooed a girl out of my bed because I remembered I had a deadline to submit this article. Then I got to thinking, I wonder how many times my grandfather gave some slam the heave ho before he met my grandma. The answer is: probably not too many. I’m not at all claiming I’m some kind of vaginal tactician and Gramps had no game, it’s just a different era and our generation of men is not the same as his.

The idea for this article came to me the last time I watched Saving Private Ryan. If you’ve never seen that movie, you don’t deserve the testicles hanging between your legs. The second scene of the film was Omaha Beach at D-Day. This scene depicts thousands of young US soldiers praying to God, crying for their mamas, pissing their pants because they’re so scared, drowning, and being mowed down by Axis machine gun fire. Yet those who survived banded together to overtake the enemy. If those men of valor didn’t win this battle, we could have lost the war.

It dawned on me that, even though the film is historical fiction, my grandpa witnessed this event with his own two eyes. This was just one day in his 93-year tenure. This one day definitely proved his merit more so than any of my 24 years on this planet. My highest ambitions pale in comparison to this singular event.

As you could probably guess, I like to write in my free time. I first began writing leisurely in college. I have legal pads full of words. Mostly, they are quotes from books that I’ve read. But I also include quotes and interaction from my life, a timeline to chronicle my awesome adventures, my original thoughts, song lyrics, things of that nature. This probably isn’t all that unusual in this day and age. Writing is simply something I like to do.

I’m realistic about my expectations for my writing. I don’t think I’ll be the next Tucker Max, nor would I want to be. And I certainly don’t want to blog about my feelings online like all those emo (/wrist) kids. Even though I’d like to supplement my income with my words, my “grand aspirations” is that one day further down the road I’ll be able to share these words with a grandson or someone in a future generation worthy of reading my tales and he’d appreciate them.

One day I thought to myself, “It would be so fucking cool if my grandpa left me legal pads full of his writing.” Reading his brutal honesty about his thoughts about life and what was going on at the time would be incredible. He rarely speaks of his war experience, but what if he wrote about it? I felt his thoughts would not only be entertaining, but insightful. I’m sure his words and perspectives could enlighten my own outlook on life. I relished on this prospect for a few moments…

Unfortunately I realized that it won’t happen. I’m not saying my grandpa doesn’t love me or care enough to will something like that to me, because I know he does and he would. The reality is that he didn’t have the free time that I have. When he turned 19, he enlisted in the army. After Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, he, like millions of other American men, wasn’t just a passive bystander. He took action. He served as a medic on three continents without complaint. On June 6, 1944, he was on the second wave at Normandy. If his orders had been to arrive on the first wave there’s a decent chance I wouldn’t exist. It’s funny how one moment in time could possibly have such a resounding impact. I don’t want to get too much into the idea of Divine Intervention, but the reality is he could have easily been one of the 12,000 casualties.

Nothing I’ve ever done in life can even compare. Sure, I got a college degree and do decently well at my job, but all of that was easy. My eyes have never witnessed thousands of slain 20-something year olds. My nerves have never been tested to the point where I have been forced to decide to risk my own life to save another by jumping out of a foxhole during a firefight. I don’t know how I’d react. I’m sure I would have been scared shitless. I can say, objectively, that in comparison to my grandpa, I’m a pussy. I honestly do not know how I would react in a life or death situation.

After the war, my grandfather earned two degrees thanks to the G.I. Bill and then worked his ass off as a physical therapist, enriching the lives of thousands of clients. My dad told me how he helped one man walk again after all other doctors assured this man that he had no chance of ever regaining the use of his legs. He and my grandmother raised eight amazing children. A wise man once told me that a person’s worth can be measured by looking at his children. By that standard, William [redacted] is one of the most successful people I know. Seven of his eight children are college grads, and all are contributing members to society. They all value hard work, honesty, integrity, and family. So do their children (and their grandchildren).

So, will I get some notebooks full of my grandpa’s thoughts and memories? I can say with almost absolute certainty that I will not. And I do not feel slighted at all. I know that William [redacted] didn’t have the kind of free time that I have. He never wasted countless hours on Facebook, not once did he check his favorite band’s Twitter to see when their new album is coming out, he never played NHL on X-Box. He didn’t write down his feelings. He was too busy being a man.

In conclusion, I would just like to sincerely thank all veterans. Thank you for being more of a man than I am. I would especially like to thank veterans of WWII. If you have never read Tom Brokaw‘s The Greatest Generation, I would suggest picking that up. If you have a grandpa who is a World War II vet, please thank him. Frank McCourt wrote, “All the grandmothers and grandfathers have stories. If you let them die without taking down their stories, you are a criminal.” One day, very soon you may become that criminal.

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My grandfather fought in the South Pacific in WWII. He was a submariner. My uncle is retiring this year as a Command Sergeant Major. He was in Irar in 04-05. We crossed paths as I was going into Iraq. I also went to Afghanistan. My wife just came home from Afghanistan last fall. I won’t go into what I did and saw on my convoys. I’m not looking for props. Let’s just say I thank God every day my wife doesn’t have to live with the things I do. This is a solid column that opens a small viewport into that day. Every generation of military must understand they are not the reason their uniform is respected. It’s respected because of those that came before them.

All y’all with Grandfathers who fought in wars, talk to them about it. My Grandfather, who fought in Korea, passed away when I was 3 and my other Grandfather, who fought in the Persian Gulf War, has Alzheimer’s which makes it damn near impossible to talk about his days in the service. Wish I could talk to them about their war stories.

Even with the anniversary year being a number that can be construed as a sexual reference, I hope the usual comments on columns are absent on this one as we honor those fantastic soldiers who are the truest definition of a hero. Thank you to all Veterans, particularly the those who fought on this day 69 years ago.

Great read and very true. My mother’s father was a chemical engineer in WW2 and got a telegram from Henry Stimson that he was to report to the Philadelphia Navy Yard where he worked on building the USS New Jersey and USS Wisconsin. My wife’s grandfather was in the Battle of the Bulge serving under Patton. He never talked about it with his kids but I asked him about it and found out he had won a medal and bayonetted a Nazi who walked into his foxhole. All I could think to say was damn. He was 19.

Both of my grandfathers fought in WW2. One was in the paratroopers, the other was part of the Hungarian resistance. Its days like this I thank and think about both. Unfortunately they have left this world, but without men like them who know’s what the world would be like now. Great column Abe, really makes you think.

Great Article, my grandfather enlisted right after pearl harbor and saw action in Europe he never really liked to talk about what he saw or went through but he laid down everything he had for this great nation, I thank my grandfather and every other vet I see, God Bless America

I had a grandfather who flew bombers in the European Theatre. He was shot down over Hungary and spent 3 years in a German camp. Unfortunately, he passed before my time, but it’s men like these that make this the best country known to man. God bless the USA.

My grandfather was a Marine in the Pacific at Guadalcanal, Midway, Coral Sea, Iwo Jima, etc. Unfortunately he died before I was born but they made an HBO mini-series about his division and their endeavors. I can’t even imagine what he and others dealt with on that side of the war as well as anyone who went through D-Day and still managed to walk around and live life normally. I would probably be shaking in a straight jacket somewhere myself. Well done article Abe. World War II is one that changed the future of America and we should never forget it.

My grandfather fought in the Pacific in WWII and was in a unit that was supposed to invade Japan. If we had actually gone through with that invasion our casualties would have been unthinkable. Any damn liberal who thinks we shouldn’t have dropped those Bombs on Japan is a fool and needs to choke on a dick. God bless America and all our Veterans

Whenever I watch Saving Private Ryan, I try to imagine myself running off the LC after the door opens. And I can’t even begin to fathom the hell that they went through. Many thanks and utmost respect to our brave vets.

^^I was seriously about to post this exact same thing. I’m giving you a ‘Take a Lap’ (heretofore known as, TAL, or simply, ‘Lap’) not because I disapprove, but because I only want to increase the magnitude of the response. A wise man once told me, “Love me or hate me, it’s still an obsession.” Words to live by. (AKA, WTLB.)